


Ghosts of District Twelve

by endlessnightlock (Endlessnightlock)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Autism, Cannon compliant, F/M, Ghosts, Halloween, More sweet than scary, Suggestive Themes, actually not scary at all, features a toastbaby with autism, putting a little representation out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-05 08:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endlessnightlock/pseuds/endlessnightlock
Summary: Cross posting from tumblr, a little Halloween Drabble based on a prompt from rosegardeninwinter.





	1. Willow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosegardeninwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegardeninwinter/gifts).

> I’m posting this as a WIP, on the off chance I add a part two. (I’m a thinkin’ on it.)

“Willow honey, come here. Your hat is on crooked.” The witchy little girl runs back to her momma’s side and her black-paint-covered, paper cone hat is adjusted accordingly. 

The little girl knows that her costume is the best in the whole district because her momma sewed the dress from one of her old tour gowns (she’s still not sure what exactly a “tour” is, but Willow knows it must have been a sad time because there were tears in momma’s eyes as she used the seam ripper to take the gown apart) and her daddy makes the prettiest things she’s ever seen. He painted a mural in her classroom before the beginning of school last fall, a fanciful thing with pictures of talking flowers and trees, birds that flew high above it all, and clouds with traces of orange around the edges that remind her of the tiger lilies that grow in Grandpa Haymitch’s backyard in the summer- Momma says that it’s all that goose doo laying around helps them get so big and pretty.

Before she can run ahead of them again, Daddy grabs her, scooping her up into his big arms and lifting her up up up and over his head so that she can ride into town on his shoulders. Willow giggles and tries not to squirm, because he says it’s hard to carry her if she doesn’t sit still.

Ash is strapped on Momma’s back in his pack, and she can’t see any part of him but his head and the knit-orange cap with the little cat ears on top. Daddy added some brown stripes to his face, and the three of them decided that Ash makes a pretty good Buttercup, the ancient cat that somehow still manages to terrorize Grandpa’s geese sometimes.

“So what is this day called again, Daddy?” Willow asks as she bumps along on her father’s shoulders. She knows to ask her daddy these types of questions because her momma usually just shakes her head and tells her to go ask him. Momma says that Daddy has “the gift of gab,” whatever that means.

“Halloween,” he answers easily, his hands secure around her legs. “It’ll be lots of fun little Catkin. There are going to be treats in the town square and a party for you rugrats. Halloween was said to be a time where spooks and ghosts and little witches like you,” Daddy paused to tickle the backs of her knees which set Willow to squirming, “come out to play.”

“Peeta, you’re going to drop her,” Momma says, but Daddy just laughs.

“Oh Pshaw.” Daddy secretly told Willow once that Momma just likes to fuss at him sometimes, but not to worry because she doesn’t mean anything by it. “I never dropped you did I?”

Momma stopped talking then. Her cheeks look a little pink in the low dusk-light.

Willow was silent for a moment, trying to decide if she should share her secret or not. “I know ghosts,” she admits. “Lots of ghosts.”

The four of them come to a quick stop. 

Willow notices that he and Momma share a glance before either of them speak. “What do you mean little Catkin?” Daddy asks her.

Willow feels a sickness in her tummy. She should have kept the secret to herself. She tries so hard not to make Momma or Daddy sad because sometimes they are sad and Momma has to stay in bed sometimes, even though Daddy tells her it’s not anybody’s fault, that sometimes Momma is just sick.

“Willow, Daddy and I aren’t angry with you, but we do need you to tell us who these ghosts are, okay?” Momma speaks up in her soft, low voice. It’s the voice she uses to soothe her and Ash at night if either of them wakes up afraid of the dark. “We need to know who your friends are.”

“In the meadow, I met them, that one night we went out for a picnic at sunset when Ash was still inside of Momma’s tummy?”

Daddy laughs. “I know the night you mean. The time when your momma fell asleep and I told you to go play?”

“Yes, that’s the one Daddy. I met the ghosts then.”

Momma and Daddy share a look then, and Willow knows that they don’t believe her. 

They think she’s telling stories again because Willow is good at telling stories and making up imaginary friends, but this one is _true_. 

Aunt Prim and her grandpas, (not Grandpa Haymitch but her _real _grandpas- Daddy’s daddy and Momma’s daddy both), told her that her Momma and Daddy probably wouldn’t believe Willow until she was much, much older. But that didn’t mean they weren’t real.

Aunt Prim, who was so pretty and looked like her momma but with blonde hair and blue eyes, and Grandpa Jack and Grandpa Hugh told her to come back another night and they would introduce Willow to both of her uncles. Grandpa Hugh had laughed and said that they were both indisposed at the moment and that he was glad he didn’t have to worry about them anymore.

“That’s nice, sweetheart. Were they nice ghosts?” Momma asks as they begin walking towards town and the party in the square. Daddy squeezes her calves that drape over his chest, and she giggles.

“Oh yes. They were very nice.” Willow tells her. 

She doesn’t mind keeping them a secret for now.

Someday, though- someday she’ll tell them. 

  
  



	2. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash meets Aunt Prim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off an Octoberlark 2019 visual prompt

“Come on Ash, we’re going to miss them,” Willow tugged on her brother’s arm, but he was resolute.

“I don’t wanna,” he sulked, looking over his shoulder at the small clearing where their cabin stood on the edge of the woods. Momma and Daddy were in bed asleep, and the little boy wasn’t at all sure that he and his sister ought to be out like this tonight. It was so dark outside.

“But you told me you _did _want to come,” she reminded him.

“Changed my mind,” Ash stopped dead in his tracks and brushed the longish blond waves off his forehead. 

Momma had just said this morning that he needed a haircut, and he’d managed to evade her all day. Haircuts were the worst.

“I ain’t even dressed properly.” Ash didn’t think meeting someone for the first time in his long johns was the best way to make a good impression. He may have only been five years old, but even he knew better than that.

Willow huffed, “Ash, I’m sure they don’t exactly care what you’ve got on. They just want to meet you, I promise. You don’t need to be scared.”

“I ain’t scared.”

Ash was scared. 

Why wouldn’t he be scared? 

When his big sister snuck into his room, after Momma and Daddy had gone to bed for the night, and asked him if he wanted to go to the meadow on the other side of the woods with her, he’d jumped at the chance. Willow _never _asked him to do anything with her anymore, she was always busy with her friends from school. She was always doing things that he wasn’t big enough to do yet. 

Ash would never tell his big sister, but he missed her playing with him sometimes. She couldn’t know though- a man had to have some pride, after all, at least that’s what Grandpa Haymitch tells him all the time.

So when she asked him to come to the woods with her, Ash jumped at the chance to do something special with Willow. 

It wasn’t until he got outside in the dark, far away from the cabin- and it was so dark next to the woods, not at all like going out with Momma on the days when she took him for his bow lessons (He didn’t like the woods very much when they were Momma-less, Ash decided) that he came to the conclusion that outing with his big sister or not, he didn’t like this at all. 

Ash wanted to be inside their snug home and in bed with his stuffed bear, or maybe even in bed with Momma and Daddy. He loved to get into bed with Momma and Daddy, as long as they were being quiet and not making those funny noises he heard coming from their bedroom sometimes.

“Come, Ash, don’t be a chicken. We’re almost there!”

Ash sighed. He didn’t like anything about this, but he supposed that he’d better be brave in case Willow needed protection. So picking up the pace, he finally caught up with his sister. 

Willow had just reached a fallen log in the middle of a clearing and plopped down on it. She swung her legs as if she could hardly stand to wait. “Sit down, they should be here soon!”

“You never told me who’s gonna be here,” Ash grumbled, leaning against the log and attempting to haul himself up on top of it. He was a sturdy boy like his daddy, a little plumper than his friends Mitchell and Coy. Ash wished that he were a little thinner like his friends sometimes, but Daddy told him not to worry about it because Mellark men weren’t made for foot speed, they were made for strength. 

Daddy also said that he still had a growth spurt or two to hit. 

When Ash asked his father if the reason why he only had part of one leg was because of a growth spurt that went wrong, his daddy laughed until there were tears in his eyes. For some reason, Momma had tears in her eyes too but she wasn’t laughing.

Finally, Ash made it on top of the tree trunk with a grunt.

“Shh, you don’t want to scare them off!” Willow hissed in a loud whisper that somehow seemed even louder than the noise he had just made.

“Well, maybe I want to scare them off. You never told me who it is we’re meeting out here!” Ash muttered under his breath. Coming out with her was starting to seem like it had been a really bad decision. 

He had no idea Willow was going to be such a bossy pants tonight, he thought this was supposed to be _fun_.

“Oh, here they are!” Willow said, sliding off the tree trunk and taking off for the tree line.

“Willow, wait up!” Ash said, sliding back down to the ground. 

Sisters. 

Sometimes he thought a fella’d be better off without them.

Ash heard the sound of a bell coming out of the tree line, and then there was a girl walking out of the woods with a goat behind her. 

He wasn’t afraid anymore. The girl looked nice. She had long, loose blond hair that hung down her back. It was so shiny and pretty in the moonlight. The girl herself was shiny all over. She was bigger than Willow, but not by much.

Ash figured out that the sound he'd heard was coming from a little bell that'd been tied around the goat’s neck with a pink ribbon.

“Prim,” Willow said, running up to the girl and throwing her arms around her neck.

The other girl hugged her tight, and the two of them were soon spinning around in a happy circle while the goat bent it’s head down to the forest floor looking for something to chew on, at least as far as he could tell. Ash had never met a goat. 

He studied the big girl’s face, and decided that she looked a lot like Momma, but not like Momma exactly.

“Ash, don’t be shy,” Willow finally said, stepping away and motioning for him to come closer. “Come meet Prim, she’s been waiting to see you for a long time.”

The girl, Prim, had the warmest smile, and when Ash reached her side he couldn’t help but throw his arms around her waist. 

“I’m so glad you’re finally here,” Prim said. It sounded like she was laughing and crying at the same time.

Ash didn’t understand how people did that. How could you feel happy and sad together?

“I’m so glad to meet you, Ash. Here," Prim stepped back, wiping tears from her eyes, "let me introduce you to my friend."

* * *

Katniss opened one eye to look at her son’s face peering across the bed at her.

“Momma,” Ash whispered, “can I sleep with you?”

“Sure honey, climb in.” She pulled the covers back and scooted closer to Peeta, nudging him gently so that Ash would have enough room to get in as well.

They probably could use a bigger bed at some point, but they had never minded (after so many years of practically sleeping on top of each other being a necessity, it was nice that the closeness was finally just a _want_ instead of a _need_) snuggling, so they keep putting the purchase off indefinitely.

When Ash burrowed under the covers, she noticed a slight tinkling sound. “What’s that Ash?” Katniss asked him, settling back down on her side.

“Oh, it’s something a new friend gave me,” he mumbled, half-asleep again already. “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure.”

Ash sat up and opened his palm. Out dropped a faded pink ribbon, with a small bell tied onto it's middle, into her outstretched hand. 

Katniss’s heart felt like it was going to stop. The two items reminded her so much of ones from years and years ago, decades at this point.

“What’s your friend’s name, buddy?” she asked her son, her voice choking up on her memories.

She was fully unprepared for his answer.

“I made two friends, actually Momma. One was a goat named Lady, and the other was her owner, Prim. They were both nice.” Ash let out a huge yawn like he couldn’t form another word if his life depended on it. “I’m so tired now though. Good night, Momma.”

“Good night, Ash.”

Katniss didn’t sleep a wink that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be one more part to this, keep your eyes peeled!


	3. Ash part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash talks to the lady on the edge of the meadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Buttercupbadass for some inspiration for this chapter! I was floundering on where to take it next and she gave me some great ideas.
> 
> And you can thank her for the funny edition at the end ;).

Ash stood with his back to the tree, watching his sister play a game of tag with their uncles.

Rye and Graham chased Willow around and through the oaks and maples, the moonlight shining off their hair as they darted through the trees. 

Ash had been playing with them but begged off a minute ago. He said needed a rest. 

It wasn’t exactly true, although he could do with a break. 

There was another reason he wanted to stop. 

Ash had been thinking long and hard about it for more than just tonight and had decided that he was going to do it. 

He was going to talk to her tonight.

Ever since the first time he’d come out here with Willow, Ash had noticed a lady who was always kind of far away from the rest of them. None of the others seemed to pay much attention to her. She had deep wrinkles lining her face, and a tall, creaky-looking body. She looked more ghost-like than the ones he’d already made the acquaintance of.

Ash knew that she was like the others, but for some reason, she didn’t seem to belong with them. It was a puzzle.

But still, she watched them. She didn’t come every time, but when she did Ash always seemed to be the only one who noticed her. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he used to be afraid of the lady, but that time had passed. Now he was ten, half-grown in his mind, and had reasoned to himself that if she was going to hurt any of them she would have done it by now. 

He just knew that she needed someone to talk to, something inside his head and his heart told him that. She seemed sad, lonely, and Ash couldn’t understand why she’d want to stay that way.

So while his very much still alive sister and his very much no longer alive uncles chased each other, laughing and shouting, he snuck off to the edge of the meadow where the lady stood.

“Hello,” Ash greeted her when he was close enough to speak. 

“Hello Ash,” she answered listlessly.

He was confused. “How do you know my name?”

The woman looked forward again. “I just do,” she said softly.

Ash stepped a little closer to her. He just knew she wanted him there, even though she was trying to make him think otherwise by behaving that way. 

“Who are you?” he asked bluntly.

“No one important.” She said. “Just someone that would be better off forgotten. I wasn’t,” she looked him dead in the eyes then and added, “a very nice person.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t talk to each other, does it?” Ash reasoned. “After all, you said you _weren’t _a nice person. To me, that means you used to be mean but now you’re not.”

The woman laughed sharply. “That doesn’t make one fig’s bit of difference now, does it? Anything I do now can’t make up for what I was before. There are no do-overs, Ash.”

The boy thought about her words for a minute. “Did someone tell you that?”

She snorted. “No, but it is strongly implied. Those are my sons, chasing after your sister,” she points toward the three figures. “They haven’t spoken to me since… since before…”

“Since you all died?” Ash supplied. 

No one had ever accused him of being a shrinking violet.

“Yes, since the day of the bombing I’ve been alone. It’s been close to thirty years now.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” he asked. “Maybe they’re waiting for you to speak first.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

Ash held his arms out, raised upward in disbelief. 

She wasn’t making any sense. “Why can’t you talk to them? I’m talking to you, aren't I? And I’m not even dead. I figure it’s gotta be possible for dead people to talk to each other.”

His grandmother narrowed her eyes at him in contemplation. “You are the most loose-tongued child I have ever met- you know that Ash Mellark? You must take after your mother. Your father was the sweetest boy…” her voice trailed off and she coughed quickly, covering the emotion that was creeping into her throat. 

Some of it still managed to leak out, even though she was trying so hard to control herself. “I treated him so badly, Ash. Not just your father, all of my boys. Do you know that I never told any of them- not one time, that I was proud of them? Do you know that Ash? Not once.”

“Were you proud of them?” Ash asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking down at his shoelaces. He’d made sure to double-knot them before leaving tonight, just like Dad always told him to.

“Yes,” she answered. “I was. I was so proud of them, such handsome boys. Rye and Graham were mischievous, but Peeta…” her voice trailed off, and Ash figured that Grandmother must have become lost in her memories if she was referring to his father by his first name, it wasn’t quite seemly to him. “He was such a good boy_. _ I didn’t deserve him. I couldn’t see it then, but that’s what eternity has given me. Time to see what a terrible person I was.”

“Maybe you should just tell them you’re sorry,” Ash said like it was the easiest thing in the world. To him it was, it was simple really.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Pardon me, ma’am-”

“Call me Grandmother, please,” she asked quietly.

“Okay, _ Grandmother_,” he emphasized the word to let her know he was trying to be helpful, not to be smart-alecky like Momma told him he was sometimes, “what I was meanin’ to say is that I think you’re making this harder than it needs to be. Momma and Dad always tell me that we just need to apologize to people when we’re wrong and they’re supposed to forgive us, just like we’re supposed to forgive them. That’s what they do, and that’s what I do.”

“I can’t,” she mumbled.

“Why not? What’s stoppin’ you?”

“If my boys or Hugh wanted to speak to me, they would’ve done so by now.”

“Well,” Ash said, stepping closer and grabbing her hand- it was cool and icy, like the marble countertop at the service counter of the butcher’s shop, “maybe they’re waiting for you to make the first move. Maybe they think you don’t want to talk to them either.”

“But I couldn’t-”

“Uncle Rye! Willow! Uncle Graham! Can you come here and talk to Grandmother?” Ash interrupted her, his shouting loud enough that the trio on the other side of the meadow stopped what they were doing, “She wants to talk to you guys!”

“Ash Mellark, what have you done?” he felt Grandmother’s hand tremble in his own, “what am I going to say to them?” 

“Just what you told me. And don’t worry,” he added, “I won’t make you do it alone. I’ll be right here.”

* * *

  
  


The next morning Peeta got up at sunrise because it was his routine to make tea before leaving for the bakery. He liked the quiet and solitude of the early morning. He liked it when Katniss got up early too, but she wasn’t quite the early riser that he was.

There was a note propped up beside the canister of loose tea leaves, the word _ Dad _scrawled on it in Ash’s messy print. When he picked it up, Peeta noted that it was folded into quarters and freely covered with his son’s dirty fingerprints.

_ Dad_,

_ Grandmother wanted me to tell you that she’s sorry for the way she treated you when she was still alive. _

The paper fluttered to the floor. 

They were going to need to have another talk with the kids about this ghost business- things were getting out of hand now. 

Should they try to make an appointment in the Capitol with Dr. Aurelius for Willow and Ash? He’d just retired last year, but made sure to let the two of them know that he would always be available if the need arose. 

When Peeta and Katniss had mentioned to him that they were concerned about the Willow and Ash’s claims that they’d met their deceased family members, the doctor told them not to be concerned about it, but to simply listen to what they had to say with an open mind.

“Children have different ways of communicating with us. They often use fantasy to work through their thoughts, but that doesn’t make those thoughts any less valid,” Dr. Aurelius assured Katniss and Peeta the last time they’d brought the subject up with him. “So just listen to them, and they’ll be fine. I promise.”

So he shrugged, and in the interest of listening to what his son had to say, Peeta continued reading:

_ Grandmother wants you to know that she was always proud of you, and she’s sorry she was mean. She doesn’t know why she treated you like that. She said that she doesn’t have an excuse but she’s sorry and hopes you forgive her. She said that she loves you. _

Strangely enough, Peeta did feel a little better reading the words. 

He hoped that wherever his mother was, she found some peace. 

But as he read further down the note, he almost choked on his spittle at the next words written in his son’s hand.

_*Oh, and Uncle Rye says that he watches over you allllll the time. _

_ He says he’s glad you get to use that thing he taught you on Mommy. _

_ What did he teach you, Daddy? Can you teach me? _

Peeta groaned.

Maybe there was some truth to this ghost thing...

“You better not be watching _all _the time,” Peeta muttered as he began filling the tea kettle at the sink. “I think maybe we need to put some shades up on the bedroom windows.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can all thank Buttercupbadass for that * funny line from Uncle Rye! I had to use it!


	4. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toastbaby number three meets Grandpa Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter tackles something I've never seen in a fanfiction- Peeta and Katniss with a child with a developmental disability. Autism is a subject that is close to my heart, so I wanted to explore that a little here.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

Hope Mellark was technically what you would call a “change of life baby.” 

Katniss was three weeks from turning fifty when she found out she was expecting again.

It was a crazy time for the family. Peeta was thrilled. Katniss was uncomfortable but happy, and they were both so busy with the bakery and unsure of how they’d manage without the older kids there to step in and help. 

Ash was almost twelve and thoroughly embarrassed by his silver-haired mother walking around the district so obviously, well, _ pregnant_. He’d finally found out what exactly it is that goes into making a baby and was thoroughly repulsed by the idea that his mother and father were still doing _that_. They were just so… old. And not only were they still doing that, but they were also blatantly showing off the fact by walking through town like it was perfectly fine to be both old and pregnant.

Didn’t they know how embarrassing they were?

Willow was excited by the idea of having a new brother or sister. She secretly wished for a girl and was thrilled when that was exactly what they got. 

Hope was a sweet baby. Happy, content to go for rides on her Momma’s back and stare at the world with big eyes or grab fistfuls of her Daddy’s hair when he would lift her high above his head and blow bubbles on her tummy. She would laugh and laugh, her blue eyes surrounded by the dark lashes she’d gotten from Momma sparkling against her pretty little face.

But through her toddler years, Hope began to change. 

By her second birthday, she’d stopped looking directly into their eyes. 

They thought she was just shy. 

By Hope’s third birthday she was noticeably farther behind in her speech than what her older brother and sister had been. She only used single words to answer questions, and many times she wouldn’t speak at all.

At first, they thought it was because she was the baby of the family and simply didn’t feel the need to talk because everyone else did so much talking for her. 

There were other habits Hope had, little things that seemed much different than what the older kids had done at that age. 

She would line her toys up rather than playing with them, and then there was her obsession with spinning the wheels on Ash’s old toy cars or the enjoyment she seemed to get out of running handfuls of sand through her fingers. Hope would get extremely distressed when men other than Daddy or Grandpa Haymitch would speak directly to her, covering her ears as if their voices were just _too much _for her to listen to them.

And so after a visit to her doctor shortly after birthday number three (real doctors were everywhere now, many in each of the districts thanks to changes to the socioeconomic structure of Panem), and then a subsequent referral to a children’s psychologist in the Capitol they were finally given an answer to why Hope was the way that she was. 

It wasn’t the end of the world, simply the beginning of a new way of looking at things. A different reality than what they had all anticipated for their sweet baby girl. 

But it was okay. 

It was still Hope.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Hope, come here,” Willow called to her little sister, “we’re going to be late.”

Hope ignored her sister. She knew that sometimes Willow thought she couldn’t hear or didn’t understand her, but that wasn’t true. She might not be able to find the words to say so, but Hope knew that Willow wanted her to come. But if Hope ignored her long enough, she’d be allowed to stay here and look at the caterpillar.

Hope bent down close to the ground to watch the creature, how it wriggled and wriggled across the yellow leaf. Black and brown and furry. 

Fascinating.

“Come on Hope, we need to go now,” Willow urged.

That was enough caterpillar. She stood up and took Willow’s warm, soft hand into her own. Hope loved the way her sister’s hands felt, so _nice. _ Willow always smelled so nice too, like soap and skin and cotton.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to see them, but I hope you can see them yourself tonight Little Bug,” Willow squeezed her hand as they walked, not too hard because too hard is _too_ _much_ and Willow is nice and doesn’t like to make Hope upset. “I know they’d like to meet you, even if you can’t talk to them.”

Hope still wasn’t sure who they were going to see, but if Willow was with her it would probably be okay.

They walked a little further, and soon they were in the middle of a big open space that Momma and Daddy called Meadow. Meadow was a nice place, there were so many bugs to watch and soft grasses to touch. But now it was dark, and Hope was a little sad because she couldn’t see any bugs.

“Here, come sit with me Little One,” Willow urged, finding a tree trunk to sit down on. “This is where Ash and I used to wait for them.”

Hope obeyed her sister- there wasn’t anything else she wanted to look at right now so she decided to go ahead and sit.

It was quiet tonight, not like summer when the bugs would chirp so loud that it hurt her ears sometimes. She didn’t always like summer in Meadow, but fall in Meadow was very nice.

“Hope?” A new voice called a man’s voice. It was a nice voice, it sounded like music like Momma’s voice did. 

Momma’s voice helped her see the colors.

Hope snuggled up to Willow. “Scared,” she told her sister. It was the best word she could think of to tell her about the voice.

“Do you hear someone?”

“Scared.”

“Ah, I think that means someone is here. Do you want to go to meet them? I can’t see them anymore, I’m too big now but I’ll go with you.”

Hope hopped down off the log, never letting go of Willow’s hand as she walked towards the new man’s voice. He’d started singing, and the colors were starting to show in the corners of her eyes, dark blue and light blue and white. And then he was there, a small man with black hair and silver eyes like Momma. 

The music stopped.

Hope stared at him solemnly as he squatted down in front of her, his face at her level. 

That was better, he didn’t look scary like this. He looked nice, like Daddy and Ash and Grandpa Haymitch.

“Hello, little Hope, I’m your Grandpa Jack. I’m your Momma’s father.”

Hope looked into his face and quickly looked down. 

Looking at the silver eyes was _too much. _

“I’m so glad to meet you. Would you like me to sing for you again?” he asked softly.

Hope gave one, almost indecipherable nod of her head, still looking down at her feet.

So the man, Grandpa Jack, sang for her then. 

It was the song she liked best.

_ Deep in the meadow, under the willow _

_ A bed of grass, a soft green pillow _

_ Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes _

_ And when again they open, the sun will rise. _

And when she looked up over his head, there were the colors- green like the leaves on the trees Momma liked to tell her about when the two of them walked in the woods, yellow, red, and orange, the orange that Daddy would explain was his very favorite as she watched him mix paint in his bowls.

Hope decided that she liked Grandpa Jack very much.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Hope, did you meet anybody tonight?” Willow asked as the two girls walked back home a little later. “Rye and Graham and Prim were always my favorites when I was a girl because they would play with me, and then there were both of our Grandpas and Grandmother too.”

“Pap,” Hope answered happily, a new word she tried for the first time and was happy when it came out easy, not like most of the other words that get stuck inside her head. “All the pretty colors.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Hope a neurological condition called synesthesia, a condition where those affected by it can "see" music. It's a condition that is nearly three times as likely to present in adults with autism.
> 
> Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story, feel free to leave a comment.


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